


Lady Mother

by liketreesinnovember



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, Joanna Lives AU, Parent-Child Relationship, bb!Tyrion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 15:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11466168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketreesinnovember/pseuds/liketreesinnovember
Summary: She enters the room and he looks at her somewhat warily. It is rare that he sees his mother when she is not with father, and Tyrion has learned fairly quickly the fear of Lord Tywin in his short life.





	Lady Mother

“Maester Vardaman tells me you’re clever.”

Tyrion looks up from where his toy knights are battling the wooden lion that Jaime had given him for his nameday (one of the knights is Jaime, the other is uncle Gerion) to see his lady mother standing in the doorway.

She enters the room and he looks at her somewhat warily. It is rare that he sees his mother when she is not with father, and Tyrion has learned fairly quickly the fear of Lord Tywin in his short life. He also is very aware of how his presence in the castle shames his mother. He is old enough to understand what they say of him, and old enough to understand why father cannot abide rumors about his mother.

Usually when he catches sight of Lady Joanna it’s from afar. Tyrion sometimes perches on the edge of the balcony overlooking the Stone Garden, where she sometimes sits doing needlework, surrounded by her ladies in waiting. He watches, with his short legs dangling between the rails, as she goes about her work, her long, precise fingers making rows and rows of delicate, perfect stitches.

He is also old enough to understand when, sometimes, he listens outside their chambers to hear his mother and father arguing in raised voices. Sometimes he hears her sobbing through the door, his father speaking gently in a way he’s never heard Lord Tywin speak before. The words are inaudible and strange to him, as they do not match the image he has of his lord father.

Once, he heard the clatter of dishware shattering, and he stepped back abruptly as the door opened and his mother rushed out, her long skirts and her golden hair fanning out behind her. She had not seemed to notice him.

He wonders if it’s about him, or about the things he’s seen Jaime and Cersei do when they think no one else is looking. No one seems to ever notice the way his brother and sister look at each other, the secret smiles and touches the twins share between them, but Tyrion sees.

Mother has a book in her hands, and, sitting down in a chair, she opens it up and places it in her lap. “Do you like to read, Tyrion?”

Tyrion nods vigorously, and Joanna smiles, as if she knows something he doesn’t. He thinks for a moment that she looks sad. “Of course you do,” she says. Tyrion takes a few steps over to her and looks down at his lady mother’s hands thumbing through the pages of the book, which is old but beautifully engraved with pictures of beasts and men and great castles, some of which he recognizes.

Then he is lifted up into the air and Joanna sets him down on her knee. “Can you read this?” she asks, pointing to a particular passage.

“…descending from the female bloodline of…” Tyrion reads, “Lann the Clever.” Tyrion looks up at mother, proud that he’d deciphered the words, and even prouder that he’d understood their meaning.

“Very good. Keep reading.”

Tyrion continues to read the words on the page, marveling at the fine writing, running his fingertips along the gilded edges of the pages. After a while Joanna closes the book and asks him if he would like to keep it, and Tyrion’s eyes go wide.

He spends most of his time in the nursery or the library because he’s not allowed out in the practice yard or anywhere where people might stare, and he doesn’t like navigating the endless flights of stairs, besides. The maester had often brought him books, but this is the first time it’s been suggested that he be allowed to keep a book like this.

“Don’t stand there gaping, it makes you look like a fish.” Joanna says severely. “And you can keep it only if you promise to read it every day until you finish it. You can’t swing a sword but you have a mind. It will be your sword, and you must learn to use it.”

“I will,” Tyrion says, very gravely, nodding earnestly for emphasis. He is eager to prove his worth to his mother, lest he prove her gift to be wrongfully given. She has entrusted him with this, the first time his mother has ever given him anything.

“Good.” Again Tyrion is lifted into the air and Joanna sets him down on the ground, then hands him the book. It’s heavy but Tyrion clutches it to his chest as though he were a shipwrecked sailor clinging to a rock in the middle of the sea. Joanna gives him a small smile and Tyrion finds himself beaming up at his mother with pride before she turns and exits the nursery with a swish of her long skirts.

That night, he reads until the candle burns low and his vision blurs and he falls asleep with the book curled beneath one arm like a doll.


End file.
